The Boy Who Ought To Be Dead - H.P

XI - Lamb for Slaughter

"There is no use talking about the problem unless you talk about the solution."
- Betty Williams

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[same day, 7:30 am]

Harry and Draco were sat on the corner sofa, the fire blazing from the fireplace, a cup of tea in both of their hands.

"Draco?" Harry asked. He had calmed down considerably since his break down a few hours ago. His arm stung slightly—which he didn't mind—and he felt quite tired.

"Yes, Harry?" Draco responded. His mind was clouded with worries about Harry. Apart from that, he was doing well.

"Will I have to tell Dumbledore and Snape about the vision?" He questioned, slightly concerned about doing so.

Draco pondered his answer for a moment, "erm, I think so. I wouldn't worry about it, though."

Harry shuddered involuntarily, "Merlin, I don't want to tell anyone what I saw."

Draco placed his tea onto the coffee table and put his hand on Harry's leg comfortingly, "I can't help you with this, Harry. You have to tell someone; whether or not you like it."

Harry sighed, "I know. But it makes me sick just thinking about it."

Draco was silent for a second before an idea came to him, "I have an idea that may help,"

"Go on," Harry told him.

"I was wondering if you would be more comfortable showing them the memory of the vision. That means you wouldn't have to recite the whole thing to them." Draco explained.

Harry perked, "that is a great idea, Drake!"

Draco smiled, "I didn't want to be the one that said it, but yeah."

Harry gave him a playful whack on the arm.

"Thank you, Draco. That is a good idea." Harry thanked, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"You are welcome, my love." Draco spoke.

The resumed relaxing on the sofa in silence. Draco began daydreaming, while Harry read a book on Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Draco's mind was wandering everywhere. He had yet to see his mother, and he began to miss her. He hadn't even heard a word about her or from her.

His father was a similar story. He didn't necessarily miss him, but he was worried for his well-being. Constantino had said that Lucius had ran from Voldemort, Draco was wondering where he was.

Harry looked up from his book to see Draco's eyes unfocused. He had an unreadable expression on his face.

"Are you alright, love?" Harry asked, snapping Draco out of his trance.

"Fine," he answered plainly.

Harry frowned, "something is bothering you."

"I said I am fine, Harry." Draco said, irritated.

Harry flinched at the tone of voice, Draco noticed this.